Terminal
by Enbi
Summary: Uchiha Izumi does not want to die. (Or: Life is a sexually transmitted disease with a 100% mortality rate.) [SI/Self-Insert]


_a word at the start:_

 _for all that its structure is modeled after the fanfic "In the Blood" by Benway, i think this is perhaps the most personal self-insert i've ever done. as such, that comes with a **content warning**. this will get very psychological, focusing heavily on things i've struggled with over the years – depression, trauma, self loathing, and suicidal thoughts/attempts. please take a moment and judge for yourself what you're able to handle, because i've been told this gets very heavy._

 _this story will have four chapters total, three of them from izumi's perspective. the lack of quotation in her point of view throughout the story is on purpose. fanfiction fucked up my formatting, but i will post on ao3 the story as i intend it to be read._

 _now, without further ado, here's…_

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 **Terminal**

(Or: Life is a sexually transmitted disease  
with a 100% mortality rate.)

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Chapter 1: Diagnosis

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* * *

 **Tuesday, August 14**

* * *

I'm a prodigy. Itachi who? That fish breath son of a bitch? Fuck outta here. He could never even compare. I'm the baddest motherfucker in the Uchiha clan.

Sharingan? I activate that. Chakra? I control that. Shuriken? I throw that, beat that, tie-up-your-mother-and-spank-her-sweet-ass with that.

Uchiha Mikoto is a goddamn babe, just saying.

How did I get so good, you ask? How did the Infamous, Incomparable, Incorrigible Izumi get to be so motherfucking perfect?

Well.

Wouldn't you like to find out?

* * *

This reads like an edgy rapper's alter ego. Definitely not this one.

I think I'd like to start over from the beginning.

* * *

 **Tuesday, January 30**

* * *

Konoha. The Uchiha district. Training Ground Four. This is where you train until your muscles ache and your limbs shake, until you're choking for breath and coughing up blood. This is where you balance your heart on a kunai's edge. This is where you pledge yourself to the Will of Fire, this is where you sacrifice your soul to the unforgiving flame. This is where you grow up, this is where you are laid to rest.

This is where it starts – and this is where it ends.

It's past curfew; dusk has settled on the horizon. I'll probably get in trouble, but at this point, it doesn't really matter to me. It's Saturday, anyways, and the first time I've been back here in weeks.

I shift into a looser stance. Clench my fists. Close my eyes, ignoring the burn behind them, and take a deep breath.

Extra training. So they say. Though I have a feeling that ANBU Crane was bitter and wanted a government-regulated excuse to kick my ass because I called him a crotchety old man.

I strike, and with a deep groan, the tree in front of me shudders and then crashes down, part of its trunk split open from my punch. Maybe not quite the smartest thing to do when there's a curfew being enforced and the district is crawling with patrols, but whatever.

Izumi, Itachi says.

I don't jump at the sound of his voice, but he's still surprised me. He's getting even better at the whole sneaking around thing.

Yeah? I say, and I turn around to face him. Everything alright?

My voice sounds small. Rusty. I don't like it. I clear my throat. I mean, how are you doing? I try again.

I sound stupid, but I can't help but ask.

Fine, he says shortly.

That's good, I say. How's your team doing?

It's really a poor attempt at conversation, and also a sign of how bad things have gotten. We've never talked about ninja stuff by ourselves before.

Fine, he repeats.

My hands clench. If he came to find me after so long, it's gotta be important, so I wait.

I mean. I'm always here if I can help you in any way, I tell him, sincerely, but also just to say something. Shisui isn't here right now to erase the silence between us, and it stretches on. Lingers. Malingers.

Between training with our respective genin teams, and taking the chuunin exams, and then joining ANBU, I haven't been alone with Itachi since… since…

Since we both graduated the academy, really. Has it really been that long?

He opens his mouth. I straighten.

You know that Shisui will get upset that you've felled another tree here, he says.

It's true. Shisui always calls me a poor excuse for a Konoha ninja whenever I do this. Village Hidden in the Leaves, and all that. He's always been more Itachi's friend, anyways.

Yeah, I say lamely.

I remember when we used to talk, I don't say. I remember when we used to talk about everything under the sun.

Itachi doesn't respond. The marks he had in canon are already etching themselves onto his face. I hope the Hokage hasn't been sending him on too many missions. I hope he's getting rest. I hope Fugaku hasn't been pressuring him too much.

I hope for a lot of things with him. He seems to bring that out in me.

My eyes hurt – I have a headache. I don't really know what else to say, so I fish through my pouch for another soldier pill to give my hands something to do.

Itachi watches me without saying anything, and I fumble a bit under his scrutiny. I almost drop the bottle, and it kind of makes me want to die. His gaze sharpens when he sees me bite into the pill, but he doesn't say anything.

It doesn't do anything, and I'm left still feeling exhausted. Back to square one. He's obviously thinking something, but why won't he just say it? Why won't he tell me?

Why doesn't he talk to me anymore?

Ah, you look upset. I've upset you, he says.

It's asinine and useless, a statement unlike him. It bothers me, niggles at me.

Yes, I say quietly.

Even as I say it, I become aware of the frown on my own face and realize how true it is.

I should go, he says. He starts backing away.

Wait, I say. Wait—

He turns his head, looking at something that I can't see. Then a twist of shadow, a flash of dark wings: it masks his shunshin away.

How dramatic. I shake my head, and can't help but laugh despite myself. No hand seals. The way he picks things up as easy as breathing is actually terrifying sometimes. And what does he use his intellect on? To escape uncomfortable social situations. Jesus. He really needs to get out more.

A thought strikes, a belated realization. The district-wide curfew is mandatory, and all individuals found disobeying it will be investigated, as stated by the Hokage. So – what's he doing out right now?

My concern isn't that he'll get caught. I'm not stupid enough for that, so it goes without saying that neither is he. But he's a stickler for rules, always obeying orders and authority and shit. It's not in line with what he usually does to go deliberately against a Hokage mandate.

Then, there's the fact that he could have easily hidden from me. He's definitely skilled enough. So when he revealed himself, it was by choice.

A patrol brushes by too close for comfort. I don't really feel like training anymore after whatever the hell that was, so I cut my losses and go home. Home is a room on the floor above Teyaki's bakery, spartan and barely large enough to hold my admittedly small amount of earthly possessions. Teyaki and his wife Uruchi sleep in the room right next to mine, and the walls are paper thin.

They don't notice when I slip inside. They never notice. I might not be as good as Itachi at sneaking around, but I'm a ninja. It's part of who I am, now.

I strip my gear off and change into my nightclothes. Grab the futon from where it's stashed in the corner, and lay it out. At twelve years old, puberty is here, and I'm already hitting a growth spurt, because my blanket burrito feels more snug where it didn't when I first left for ANBU training. Itachi grew too, from what I saw. He's as tall as me now, I realize, and my toes curl into the duvet wrapped snugly around my body.

And he looks tired.

There are multiple clearance levels needed in order to pull ANBU mission records, and I'm not even going to try to get past the near-constant Hyuuga surveillance on the facility. Too much effort. The Uchiha police records are easy to get into, but I already know that searching them will turn out to be unfruitful. If someone as important as Uchiha Itachi is running around after curfew on someone else's orders – I love him but god knows he wouldn't have the balls to do it on his own – it's not going to be on the books.

In the end, none of those things are going to be necessary, anyways. I have a suspicion of what's happening. I just need to go straight to the source to confirm.

* * *

People always ask me why I work myself to the bone to follow Itachi. He's the Uchiha clan heir, and I'm a half-blooded orphan. He's serious and respectful, and I'm… me. He's talented, and while I'm quick at picking stuff up, I'm not on his level. He breezed through the ANBU admissions process, while I got in by the skin of my teeth, just to stay close by.

Of course, they gossip. It's a bit weird considering we're both twelve, but Itachi is practically a celebrity with his heir status and prodigious skill. People will speculate because that's what they like to do. Sometimes they'll say I must have a crush on him. I'm using him to up my status in the eyes of the clan. I'm jealous of how powerful he is. He's promised me favors in exchange for support. He's bribing me with money. He's blackmailing me.

It's hilarious to me, because in reality, it's none of that. I don't want anything from him, and he hasn't promised me anything. He doesn't need to. If he wanted anything from me, all he'd have to do is say the word. I'd gladly do it.

Because…

If someone gave you a kind smile like a rare flower and you knew exactly how they would die if life continued on its course like some sick play – could you really look them in the eye and do nothing?

Because…

My father always said I was unnatural, that I shouldn't be alive. But Itachi never said anything like that. He looked at me and talked to me like I was a person. He talked about his dreams, his hopes for the future – and he let me listen.

Because…

It wasn't about money, or power, or politics. Status, and importance – all that. It wasn't about any of it. He looked at me, and he just – he was nice to me.

Listen. He was nice to me and that's all I have to say about it.

* * *

 **Wednesday, January 31**

* * *

Uchiha Fugaku is not a man to be confronted lightly. But he can suck my fat cock. So.

What's up, Fugaku-sama? I say with a wave. Got a question for ya.

It's not even noon and he already looks like he wants a stiff drink. He has the blinds down and the lights off in his office. He's doing his work in the dark, apparently, judging from the papers scattered over his desk and the pen in his hand. That can't be good for his eyes.

Izumi, he drawls. I never thought I'd see you here without handcuffs on you.

Fuck this guy.

Oh yeah? Well I never thought you'd quit helicopter parenting Itachi. Finally let him off his leash, huh, I shoot back.

He looks confused for a second – probably at the whole helicopter parent thing – but shakes it off.

I don't keep Itachi on a leash, he grinds out, and I see his hands make an aborted twitch. My son actually knows how to comport himself.

I raise my eyebrows and ignore the personal jab. It's standard, for me and him. The only reason he hasn't already kicked my ass is because he knows that I wouldn't go down easy in the slightest – I'm not in ANBU for my big damn mouth – and that kind of defeats the whole point of trying to show me how easily he can crush me. Keep me docile, and all that. And the only reason that I'm not doing whatever the hell I want is because he can still hurt me pretty badly.

If we spent all our time going up against each other, nothing would get done. He knows that I'd find a way to defy him anyways. It's a nice little mutual understanding that we have.

You mean you don't know that your darling son was running around after curfew, I drawl.

Fugaku doesn't move a muscle, and I know I've got him.

What do you mean? he asks me.

He doesn't start out with immediate denial, which is nice. I already suspect something, so it would be counterproductive and waste time, anyways.

I saw him last night, I say.

His face turns completely blank, but a lack of overt reaction is just as telling, and it says multiple things. The first thing is that I'm right – obviously. On the off-chance Itachi really was running around by himself, there would have been anger, frustration, and most of all, doubt. Doubt that Itachi would do that, and doubt of the integrity of my testimony. His reaction here doesn't fit what I've seen of his personality.

Higher-level ninja shut down their emotions only in high stress situations, or heavy shock, so he's very off guard. He really thought that it was something that nobody would find out, and I've probably just uncovered some very sensitive information of his in the middle of his office.

Think of it this way: Fugaku is a clan head in a time of turmoil. He has the weight of the village and his family members on his shoulder. He's suspecting that something is up with village leadership, and words of discontent from conniving elders are starting to get to him.

Investigate, analyze, assess, target, execute. Taught from the Academy and up as the five fundamentals of covert operations, Fugaku falls back on what he knows. He can't send out one of his many police lackeys, because at this point, the mistrust from the village on part of the alleged Uchiha involvement in the Kyuubi attack and his clansmen's prideful distance from the rest of the village would cause any attempts at more overt information gathering to draw too much attention.

There is one other option. There is his son. His bright, talented son that burns like the sun. Itachi is so talented that he could do anything, even dig up information for his esteemed clan head and his beloved father, be it from the most hidden of places.

Fugaku doesn't want to thrust him into this world of darkness and intrigue so quickly, and at such a young age. But it can't be helped.

It's a risk, based on hope and gut instinct. But no one will find out. How could they? Itachi will never betray him, and there are few people who could uncover his movements, none of whom would have good reason to suspect that he'd ever be up to something.

From what I've known and observed of him, this is his likely thought process. And he would have been right, and his machinations with Itachi would have gone on for some time, pulling Itachi between village and clan until the poor boy would have torn in half.

Too bad for Fugaku, I'm here. And I have knowledge no one could ever account for.

I don't know what you mean. If this is true, I've never heard of it, he says.

Still, he doesn't immediately give the act up. Which is smart. Ninja are trained in assassination, sabotage, combat, but also infiltration, and part of that last one is that you never give up the act.

I'd almost respect him for how quickly he recovers – if it wasn't so annoying.

Come on, Fugaku-sama. Neither of us is stupid. We both know what's going on here. The clan's growing distance from the village, the increased sanctions on Uchiha police activity, this goddamn curfew. Lights off and curtains shut at 7:30? It's ridiculous, and we both know it. You're not the only one who's angry with Konoha, I say.

Presenting as an ally. Perhaps it'll work. Itachi always does encourage me to use a more sympathetic approach.

Fugaku gets up out of his chair, strides quickly to the door behind me and slams it closed, shutting both of us inside.

At least close the goddamn door when you say things like that, he mutters, and he trudges back to his desk, any previous energy gone. I can hear a drawer being opened, and he produces a bottle of sake from it, taking a generous swig straight from the mouth and setting it down.

You didn't say I was wrong, I point out.

He draws himself up, defensive.

And? Who says you're right? Maybe you're just angry at Konoha for what happened with your father.

It's a low blow. I'm a bit impressed that he's finally bringing it up, after avoiding the subject for so long whenever I'm around. But mostly, I'm pissed off.

Don't bring up my father, I say. I'm only trying to help.

You come into my office, accuse my son of disobeying the Hokage's mandates, accuse me of sedition, and you expect me to believe you're trying to help? he sneers.

I take a deep breath. My eyes hurt, and I'm getting a headache. Whatever. I'm not in the mood for this anymore.

Right now, Itachi's loyalty is with you and the clan. He's your son, and he loves you and respects you. But if this continues, that will change, and he'll forsake you. You're going to go down in history as the man who caused the downfall of the Uchiha clan with his arrogance, I spit, and I feel my lip curl with contempt. And you know what? All those people out there, who call us mad, power-hungry, blood-thirsty? They'll be right.

His face turns white with fury.

Get out of my sight, he says, so terribly quiet.

He doesn't have to tell me twice. Asshole.

* * *

I wonder a lot if I'm a good person.

I know what I'm like. I've met her. I know that I talk a lot of shit, and that I'm mean, and overall pretty unpleasant to be around. I've tried to change before, but I can't do it. It's too hard. Does that make me a bad person?

I've done good things. I do good things, sometimes, when I'm in the right mood. I want to be helpful and useful to people. Does that make me a good person?

Itachi said once that he thought someone truly good, someone with real moral fiber and a heart to protect others, was the person who acknowledged and was aware that they were capable of great evil, that they would do questionable things for no good reason. They knew how far they could go. But that they remained good, carrying their demons with them along the way – wasn't that the mark of someone truly strong?

I'm probably not a good person.

I wish I could be.

* * *

 **Thursday, February 1**

* * *

I get a message from the Hokage. Another ANBU mission. Briefing at 0800 in Conference Room 3.

The Hokage can blow me. The prick. Really, honestly, and truly. I don't tell anyone my sentiments, because I'm not that much of an idiot, but nevertheless.

He can blow me.

I swear, him and Fugaku conspire to make my life miserable. I bet Fugaku called the Hokage up like oh, hum ho, Izumi is being belligerent again, hurr durr. Please solve this problem for me because I'm an incompetent piece of shit! And the Hokage responded, Of course, Fugu-kun, I know just the mission to keep her out of your way! And he used that fucking crystal ball of his that night to watch Mikoto's long-suffering expression as Fugaku pounded into her from behind in an attempt to create more prodigy-spawn because Hokage-sama lives for the cuckold.

Yeah. Totally.

Conference Room 3 is in the Hokage Tower. Somewhere. I ask the receptionist for directions, and she points me in the right direction. She puts her hand on my shoulder and asks me if I'd like her to walk me there. Which is a nice gesture, considering the fact that even though I'm tall for my age, I'm twelve. But Jesus Christ.

Rabbit is waiting in the conference room already. He acts surprised to see me, because he's a prick.

So the rat is here, he says, cool and collected. I'm surprised your clan let you out here. Oh wait, they don't give a shit about what you do.

He's a Hyuuga. He's genetically predisposed to being an asshole.

So the rabbit is here, I respond in kind. I'm surprised at how stupid you are. That Caged Bird Seal destroys brain cells but I didn't think the damage would be this bad.

I'm an Uchiha. I'm also genetically predisposed to being an asshole. We've never really mixed well.

Monkey arrives next, so I'm not going to pay for that now, but I will later. He's a Sarutobi, I believe. Medic. Nice guy, overall. I've wondered before what he's doing in ANBU, but I've never actually asked him.

Hey, you two, Monkey cheers. You're still alive! I'm so glad you haven't killed each other.

There's time yet on that one, Rabbit mutters.

Fuck you, I tell Monkey lightly, who makes a move to ruffle my hair.

Kids these days, he laughs. You're a real piece of work. How old are you, again?

Don't you have any new material? I say.

It's always my age that he picks on. Which is stupid, because I'm a couple of months older than Itachi, who's already on his way to becoming a captain. And I know for a fact that Itachi doesn't have to put up with this shit.

Izumi, put away the kunai, Crane says. You're not supposed to stab your comrades.

I don't jump. After years of trying to predict Itachi, everyone else is much easier to sense.

I know that, I mutter. Will of Fire, protect your comrades. I get it.

Crane stares at me, and I have no idea how he manages to make his stupid bird mask look so unimpressed.

Fine, I say, and I stow the kunai back in my pouch. I don't call him a dick, because I, at the very least, try to learn from past mistakes. I don't want so-called extra training again.

Now that that's over, Crane says with a shake of his head, sounding put-upon, as he usually is when dealing with me. I'll relay our mission to you verbally, since it's of a very sensitive nature.

I flicker my Sharingan on for a moment and see the tell-tale chakra web that denotes an active barrier. One of the shielding seals over this particular set of conference rooms.

With that clear, Crane tells the team that our upcoming tour is a nice long stint at the Yugakure border next to the Badlands, which Kumo ninja have begun exploiting as an access point into the country. They shouldn't have the specialty technology needed to navigate the deadly fields of sulfur vents, since gas masks are more Amegakure's invention. The recon team already in place found out who the suppliers were, but they went silent about a week ago before they could relay the information.

Team Tsu's mission is to pick up where the recon team left off, find out what happened to them, and take care of the suppliers.

The Land of Hot Water rests on top of a dormant supervolcano, which is the source of heat for its many natural hot springs and geysers. It would take more than one skilled Douton user to create any bunkers below-ground in this environment. It's worth checking to see if Iwagakure is poking their noses in.

There's a natural cave system to the west of the country that Kumo could be using as well, but it eats up a lot of time to navigate and its position isn't exactly optimal. The recon team ruled that out as an option after analyzing the frequency of the appearances of Kumo ninja in the Land of Fire.

The ports are going to take up the bulk of our time spent investigating, which is going to be a process, I can already tell. But from there we can at least find where Kumo nin are choosing to dock when they arrive in the country, so once we reach Yugakure proper, the team will split up and Rabbit and Crane will go on ahead to get an early start on surveillance in the various villages dotted along the coast.

Thorough, Monkey says in the void of silence that follows the briefing. Bet your girlfriend likes that, Crane.

Crane doesn't say anything; he only lets out an embarrassed cough. He does that a lot, and it kind of sounds like he's a cat about to hack up a hairball. But he's the squad leader, and he's strong enough to afford that kind of thing.

His girlfriend is hot, too. I've seen her. Crazy about swords, from what I could tell. They're a perfect match.

If we're done, Rabbit bites out, I have things to do.

Like what, prostrate yourself before Hyuuga-sama while he's turning your brain into slush? You do that plenty enough, I say, because I can't resist.

The door slams shut behind him. I'm really going to pay for that.

* * *

I never had friends in school, for multiple reasons.

Part of it was the time I tripped Emika to win a footrace. Or the time I broke Taro's arm in a sparring match. Or the fact that I smelled like cigarette smoke, an unavoidable part of living with my father. I was just generally unpleasant to be around, really.

My father was rather infamous even outside of the Uchiha clan. The first outsider to marry into the clan in years. I wasn't considered a true Uchiha, but at the same time I was still an uppity clan brat. Even from the start, I couldn't win. The only person I really talked to in those days was Itachi.

But Itachi only really talked to me then, so it balanced out.

He met Shisui later on. After we both graduated, he was introduced as another training partner with Itachi specifically for the Sharingan, and I was allowed to tag along. When I wasn't with him and Shisui, I was with my genin team, where I was a replacement in their cell for a member who'd died on a freak mission accident.

Things were always a bit awkward, with my genin team. They were polite enough, and we functioned as a team at the very least, but I was never very close to them. I was always aware of the fact that I was a replacement.

Ever since I became Izumi, that's been nothing new for me.

* * *

 **Friday, February 2**

* * *

Before I leave, I can't find Itachi – as per fuckin' usual – so I tell Teyaki and Uruchi that I have another mission. Won't be back for a month or so. Have a nice trip, they say, and I smile at them. It's not gonna be nice in the slightest, but I don't have the heart to tell them that. A month at the border? Hell no.

After I'm done packing, I go to the training ground where Team Tsu usually meets. It's not particularly secluded, but not busy either. ANBU Rabbit is there. I give him a wave because I'm just a polite person.

He stiffens as soon as he sees me. Fuck you, he bites out.

Still sore about yesterday, huh, I say.

He goes still at the reminder, and I can actually feel a bit of killing intent in his chakra. I laugh. We're wearing masks but the look he gives me is positively scathing.

There's a slight rustle in the leaves above, and Monkey drops into a crouch in a whisper of fabric.

Come on, kids, he says. He straightens. Quit fighting, daddy's here.

Fuck off, I say, still smiling. Rabbit jerks into motion, stalking off the other end of the training ground. I smile wider.

Monkey turns to me and tilts his head. He doesn't say anything, which is weird.

What? I snap, but the silence stretches on. Do I have something on my mask?

You just – it's nothing, he says finally, right as Crane is the last one to join us.

It's time to go. You know the mission.

It's not phrased as a question, because Crane is a man of absolutes.

Can we just meet up at the checkpoint? I ask. I don't like the look Rabbit is giving me.

Crane ignores me, and it's actually Monkey who responds.

We go to the mission together, and we do the mission together, and it comes before any one of us, because together, we're stronger than we would be apart, he says. That's what Konoha is about.

If I could see his face, I get a feeling that he'd be smiling at me, sadly, eyes rueful, like I'm an idiot, or some stupid kid. I've finally annoyed him too.

Great job on memorizing the Academy primer, I say, rolling my eyes. What are you gonna do next, perform a trick?

Quiet down, Rat, Crane says. I don't need you running your mouth. You'll get us all killed someday if you keep this up.

And that shit annoys me. If any of them die, it's their own damn fault.

Not if you die first, you terminal fuck, I bite out. The way you keep coughing, it seems like you'll keel over at any moment.

That's going a bit far, even for me. But I don't take the words back.

Crane doesn't stiffen, or clench his fist, or straighten his spine. He doesn't move at all.

You know, I've read your file, Rabbit interrupts, his voice casual. I'm a Hyuuga. I could read it clear as day.

Yeah? What about it, asswipe? I say, freezing. Whatever he's talking about is probably the payback he has in mind for me.

I know what really happened to your father, he says.

Don't talk about my father, I say, and I feel my spine lock up, and my voice is tinny like it's coming from faraway, and my hands itch for a soldier pill because my eyes really fucking hurt. Don't talk about my father.

Don't talk about him you don't know what happened you don't know shit you weren't there no one was there—

Rabbit laughs, and it sounds cruel.

It makes sense that you wouldn't want people to talk about him. Not when you're the one who killed him.

* * *

After my father died, the Uchiha Clan came together to help me. Most of them assumed it was a tragic accident. A fatal mistake made by a young child. I heard the whispers. Poor Izumi, having to take responsibility for her strange, mad father at such a young age. No wonder it happened. She couldn't handle it. They hemmed and hawed and shook their heads. I hope the girl isn't torn up or blaming herself for what happened. She couldn't take care of him all by herself; she needed Konoha's support, and they weren't there for her. All Konoha's fault, the Elders, the Hokage—

I got flowers and cards, for awhile. Gift baskets. Home-cooked meals prepared for me in my time of grief. It was a nice gesture, I guess. I don't know. No one actually seemed very sad. Then again, neither was I. My father always said I was unnatural, that I shouldn't be alive. He's dead now, and I'm the one who killed him.

I died, once.

I remember dying. I remember it very clearly. There aren't many things that I remember now of the time in that place before I became Uchiha Izumi, but I remember that.

It was at night. It seemed appropriate. I knew that I was going to do it but I had the curtains closed just in case because I knew it would be harder if I could see the stars and the unending sky above…

I know what it's like, to die slowly. I've done it before.

I hope my father burned for a long, long time.

* * *

 **Tuesday, February 6**

* * *

The yukata I'm wearing smells like starch and hangs loosely off of me. It's a hand-me-down. My hair is put in place with a dark, curved pin that has an ornamental lily dangling off the end, carved from an abalone shell. I've never been very good at going incognito, but at least I look the part of a normal girl. Suck my dick, Fugaku. I'm not always an unruly child.

The team arrived at Yugakure two days ago. We played rock-paper-scissors to decide, and Monkey and I ended up being assigned to conduct a cursory investigation of Yugakure's criminal underbelly, to see if we can sniff out any hint of Kumo's mysterious suppliers. Rabbit and Crane are waiting at a hotel. Monkey and I decided by mutual agreement that he's going to check out the north part of town, while I check the south.

The south end of Yugakure is an idyllic place, a mixture of quiet houses and family-owned shops, while the north end is where the action's at. I don't have to do much. I offered to help, but Monkey waved me off. It might be a statement of how incompetent he thinks I am, or he just wants to give me a break. Either way, it doesn't matter.

There's a distinct pattern of footsteps that's been trailing me for the past four minutes. I don't make any sign that I've noticed, but I turn onto a side street and duck into an alleyway to see if I can shake the pursuer.

Past the alleyway, I find myself in front of a tall building that seems… different. The others are made of rice paper and wood but here, brick and mortar stretch up into a lone spire that holds a silent bell.

On top of that is a strange symbol: a triangle inside of a circle.

A good place to hide as any. The door is unlocked, so I let myself in. The ceiling is high on the inside too, like a cathedral. There's a series of stained glass images near the top – a scythe; the harvest moon; a dark, sad face with ruined pits for eyes, weeping blood – the light filters through them strangely. On either side of me, there's a section of long, low benches.

Those are church pews. I'm in a goddamn church.

They're facing a raised stone dais, and a boy with pale silver hair stands upon it with his face upturned into the light.

What the hell are you doing here? he says.

Oh, you know, just hanging out.

Go somewhere else, he says.

Aren't you rude, I say, but I'm not terribly bothered by it, and I walk up the center aisle towards him.

Dumbass. Go, he repeats, frowning.

I sit down in the front row, make a show of glancing around.

Isn't this a church? Churches welcome all, don't they? Rich or poor, weak or mighty, sick or healthy.

It is a church, he says solemnly. But its god is dying. There's nothing of value in this place.

Why are you here, then? I wonder.

He steps down, out of the light shining onto the dais.

I'm here to pray for the lost souls in this godless town, he says. I'm here because there are no more shinobi in Yugakure. I'm here because there's nowhere else for me to go. I'm here because Jashin is dying – but he's not dead, not while I'm still here to believe in him.

He's filled with conviction, but the alcove behind the raised stone is empty. A hollow shrine for the god that wept blood.

So what is it you actually do, then? I ask.

He pauses. I make sure the seven lamps stay lit, he says. I clean the glass. I pray three times a day at least, sometimes more.

That's all? I say.

What do you mean?

Well it's just – this is your faith? Praying in the morning, praying in the evening, praying to bless the meal before you stuff your fucking face? You sit in here and call that faith? It's sad.

Maybe to you, he says steadily, unmoved. Because someone like you couldn't understand.

My eyes narrow. What do you mean, someone like me?

A tourist, he says with a snort, like I'm some kind of idiot. People like you are what's killing this place.

I'm not an idiot, I snap. And I'm not a tourist either. I'm Uchiha Izumi. Use the name, asshole.

Uchiha? He tilts his head. That's a famous name. So you're a shinobi too? Woulda never pegged you for one.

Don't assume a damn thing about me, I say. My voice is cold.

The boy stares at me, but I can't tell what he's thinking.

Do you know the old koan by the ancient philosophers? If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears, does it make a sound? Have you heard that one?

I roll my eyes.

I have. It's a common code phrase for genin because it's easy to remember and the answer can be personalized, I say.

Common propaganda, he says. The higher-ups have the question, and an answer for it, but they never think of the truth.

The truth? I snort. What truth?

The truth of all of this, he says, and he gestures to the empty church around him. Of the world itself. They twist things up until it's all just a series of empty passphrases to get to the next step in a grand plan that no one knows the endgame of. They're all moving forward aimlessly, and there's no true meaning.

So? What's your point, I say.

My point is that there are questions that those in authority don't like their shinobi asking, so they misdirect. Why do we continue to kill each other? What is it all for? If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears, does it make a sound?

Existentialism? I feel like laughing.

There's no use asking questions that there are no answers to, I say.

But there is an answer, he insists. Jashin is the answer. Jashin knows. Jashin sees. All of those who have suffered will come to Him.

I think of the boy's words. God is dying. Where would god go, then?

Trying to convert me now? That stuff just helps people sleep better at night, I say. That's all it is.

He seems upset. If that's all that it is, then we mean nothing. The battles, the killing, the struggle to survive, it's all for nothing. If faith is a lie, then we're all toy soldiers fighting made-up wars…

And? I say after he trails off. I want to seem mocking, but I can't find it in me anymore, so I just sound resigned.

He sits down next to me on the pew with a sigh.

When I was a kid, he says, I lived in a small village with no name. A little ways outside of it, there was this place that people always warned the kids to stay away from. They called it the Valley of Hell.

The Valley of Hell, I repeat. Not really creative.

(Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil…)

The boy laughs. It was called that to warn people away, he says. Not that I listened. One day I went there, where no one else dared to go.

What did you find? I ask, curious despite myself.

Death, he says. I can remember it like it was yesterday. It stank of sulfur and there were bodies rotting and the water ran red as blood, muggy and thick. I saw men, women, old, young, kind, cruel, and all of them: dead.

And their faces… I remember their faces. There were men, women, old, young, kind, cruel, and all of them had the same face.

He gazes up. The scythe, the harvest moon.

I realized that day there is no truth more universal than pain, he says. It's how we know we're alive. Shuddering, pitiful, wretched – we understand each other the most then, because in our misery we're all the same.

Through that… Through that, the ultimate suffering, Jashin will set us free.

So don't you see, Izumi? They cut religion out of everything, when it's the only answer worth anything. It's all just glory and honor and doing your duty to your country and your comrades, bleeding and fighting and killing and dying because some asshole wanted to fuck another asshole over. And if you don't believe, all you have is your life, and when you're dead, it'll mean nothing, and that's it. That's all.

Doesn't that bother you?

I think for a moment.

What's your name? I ask. Tell me your name.

My name is Hidan, he says, looking confused at the change of subject.

What happens after you die, Hidan?

The name feels familiar for some reason, perhaps like an old friend, so I say it kindly.

Through the destruction of our old lives, Jashin creates a path for a new one, he says.

No, I correct him gently. That's what you believe. You have no actual idea of what—

And you do? he says, and he looks angry, like he thinks I'm condescending him. Do you know what happens after you die?

My eyes narrow, the throb behind them ignored. The urge to cry is almost overwhelming, and I utter a word that promises the end of me.

Yes, I say.

And I remember how I'd closed the curtains that night to shut out the stars and covered the carpet with a tarp for easier cleanup for whoever found me, and I remember the terrible, terrible pain in my head.

Sometimes… sometimes things need to end, I say. So to answer your original question… Becoming nothing? No. It doesn't bother me at all.

Hidan is quiet for what feels like a long time. He turns to look at me and I can see the thoughts crawling in his brain.

Oh, he says finally, contemplative. You're a very broken person, you know.

I exhale quietly like I've been punched in the gut, and I want to hit him. My eyes still hurt.

Shut up, asshole, I say. That's it? I tell you… I tell you what I think after you ask and all you have to say is that I'm broken?

(Am I?)

He smiles for the first time. His eyes – an odd, muddy violet – shine in the light of the stained glass.

Don't hide it, Izumi. With Him, pain is no longer something to be feared or ashamed of. It's something that ties us to Him.

My nails bite into my palms. My hands have clenched into fists. The fuck does this guy know about pain?

Shut up, I tell him, baring my teeth. Shut up. If you believe that Jashin is real and he actually gives two shits about the world, then why the hell are you sitting in here on your ass and praying? If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears, who gives a flying fuck? If suffering unites us and pain is beautiful, how about I punch you in the fucking face?

By the end, I'm yelling. He looks so shocked that he doesn't even block when I actually do punch him, and I get him right in the corner of his mouth.

Faith isn't just prayer, or lighting lanterns, I spit. Faith is more than killing the lamb at the altar. It's about killing yourself, one day at a time. It's something you live, something you breathe. You believe in your god? That he's out there watching? That's bigger than you, than fucking tourists, than anything in this shithole world. So do something about it.

Hidan stares at me like he's never seen anything like me in his entire life.

But I can't look at him anymore, and I bolt out of the church, slamming the doors open and stumbling out onto the street. I feel dizzy. You're a very broken person, you know. My hands, I realize, are shaking.

I force myself to move. One step. Another step. Do you know what happens after you die? And I walk.

I'm not due back to the hotel for another four hours, but I don't feel like going there right now. I walk without thinking, wherever my feet will take me, until I'm finally able to breathe again, and a tired fog settles over me.

The sun is hidden in the perpetual heat-haze of the village. The sky is a flat wash of a grey so pale that it almost looks white, like paper. For a second it spreads, until that paper sky is a backdrop for a paper world. The houses are lines of charcoal and the streets are drops of ink and the people – the people are blank silhouettes holding nothing but emptiness.

* * *

I asked Itachi once what he thought about gods.

He said that gods act and live through their followers. That if a god lives through a follower that worships it, if the life of a god is through the act of worship itself, then a god is born when someone believes in it.

In that sense, you could claim that everyone has their own gods, I said. Everyone has something they believe in more than anything else in the world.

Yes, he agreed.

What is your god, then? I asked him. The rest of the class believes in Nao-sensei. Your father believes in Uchiha superiority. But what do you believe in?

He thought for a moment.

I believe in Konoha, he said.

I snorted. Really?

Yes, he huffed, and he grew serious. I do believe in Konoha. I believe in the village's power and strength – not in just its kunai or jutsu, but in the strength of its people. You were sick after the attack, so you didn't see the way they came together. You didn't see it the way I did. They helped each other, and cared for each other, and became stronger as one. That's the Konoha I believe in, and the one I want to serve.

I thought to myself then what a shame it was, that thinking like that ended so badly. I remember how he turned out, wearing the strength of his eyes like a crown of thorns, a martyr – what a damn shame.

My dream… He paused. My dream is to become the first Uchiha Hokage, to better unite the clan and the village, because I want my family to feel like part of Konoha again.

And he was so young and he looked so terribly earnest.

You'll change it, I promised then. I'll help you change all of it.

* * *

By the time I meet Monkey a few blocks from the hotel, it's dark and raining. I don't have an umbrella, so I'm wet and kind of miserable.

Any luck? I say.

Nah, he says. Talk is cheap, and there's nothing of value here.

Ain't that the truth, I mutter. Hey…

What? he says when I trail off.

Where did you see yourself when you grew up? Like, what did you wanna do?

He sighs.

Weird question, but I'll bite. Same as every kid in the history of this village, he says. I wanted to become Hokage.

Oh, I say, and my voice is small, and my eyes hurt.

What about you? he asks.

Uh, I say. I dunno. I didn't think I'd get this far.

Oh come on, he says, grudgingly curious. There's gotta be something.

I think back.

Well, I say. I was never really concerned with specifics. I just wanted to make my parents proud by being successful. I wanted to make people happy, and I wanted to be happy. Only…

Yeah? he says.

There's a puddle in front of me, and I carefully step around it to stall for time.

It just feels like that's never going to happen, I say finally, and my voice shakes when I exhale like I'm going to cry. I'm so tired. All these missions… Is this all there is, then? Is this it?

What are you talking about? he says.

I don't really know, I say helplessly. I just hate the thought of living like this. I'm so tired of… of all this. All of it.

Yeah, but what else is there? he says, tilting his head.

Mm. Forget I said anything, I say. We're almost to the hotel.

Monkey is quiet for a moment.

This is my last ANBU mission, he says, and he sounds almost hesitant. I gotta take care of my son.

Can't gallivant around the Five Great Nations with us assholes anymore, huh, I say. It feels hollow.

You could come see him, he offers. No masks. He's a cute kid. Might cheer you up a bit. What do you say?

It sounds nice, honestly, I think to myself. It sounds really nice.

Before I can tell him, the hotel comes into sight, but the whole building is dark.

Something's wrong, I say. I tense up. Perimeter check.

Got it, Monkey says.

The perimeter check doesn't turn up anything good. Two dead bodies. And I know there's more coming. The Sharingan can't see through walls but I can sense chakra, and I only sense two people left alive in the building itself.

There's an ominous sort of hush hanging over the place. The faint tang of iron in the air.

They're fresh, Monkey says grimly, flicking the blood off his hand after he's done examining the corpses. Whoever did this is probably still in the building.

Shit, I say. Should we go inside?

Ladies first, he says. You're the one with the doujutsu.

I turn on my Sharingan and focus chakra to my hands and feet. Rabbit and Crane got a suite on the top floor. Both of the people I sense in the building are up there. It's not a hard climb by any means, but I dread every step.

Monkey is the best with fine chakra control, and he uses chakra strings to unlock the inside latch on one of the windows. I scan the room, but there's no life in it. After I climb inside, he follows after me. We silently agree to split up to cover more of the hotel.

The next room I enter proves empty too. The feeling builds. Another empty one. I don't scare easily, but the hair rises on the back of my neck.

I start to hear a soft singing. Low and steady, like a hymn.

It's coming from the last room on that end of the building. The Sharingan shows some rusty looking hinges on its door, so there won't be any stealth on that end – I slam the door open.

I see silver hair and the gleam of rosary beads. The singing stops.

Izumi, Hidan breathes. Jashin led me, so I knew you'd be here.

Hidan? I say. What are you—

His head snaps up towards me. The blood streaked on his cheeks shines black in the light.

I fire two kunai at him without thinking. He lets them hit, shudders and licks his lips when they make their mark. I back away instinctively.

My eyes dart around the room – Crane is bound up with barbed wire. He's the other person I sensed in the hotel. And Rabbit is—

he's—

Hidan gets up from his crouch and stalks slowly across the room.

Tell me, Izumi. Do you want to die? he says. Because—

He lunges towards me with a wicked-looking scythe in his hand, the rosary wrapped around his wrist,

—I'm going—

and I make like I'm going to flip up, but catch myself in a crouch on the ceiling and use it like a springboard to propel myself back down kunai-first in his chest,

—to kill—

but he doesn't care, he doesn't care, and he's leaping after me, getting behind me, with a crude black stake in his other hand, and what use is the fucking Sharingan if you're not fucking fast enough,

—you.

and god,

god,

it hurts.

I look down. The pointed end of a stake is sticking through my gut.

Oh, I think. That was quick. It was so—

My knees fold out from under me.

He rests a steadying hand on my shoulder and guides me slowly, gently to the ground. He sits down cross-legged and my head is moved to rest in his lap.

I feel myself being rocked back and forth.

Oh, Izumi, he murmurs. Oh, Izumi. A girl like you, wretched and suffering, I'm doing you a favor, aren't I?

His eyes. That muddy violet. I look up at them and see nothing I can understand.

Why? I hear myself gasp out. Why would you—

The stake twists, inside. I let out a choked whine.

You told me yourself, he says, and his voice is soft as velvet. Faith is more than killing the lamb at the altar. Faith is something you live, something you breathe. You said that from personal experience, didn't you? I wonder just what Uchiha Izumi believes in.

I think of summer days. Of promises. Of that question I'd asked him. Something you believe in more than anything in the entire world…

His name is Itachi, I say. And we're going to change everything, the whole—

So it's a person, he says. He sounds disappointed. You believe in flesh and blood? Strange, I thought you were smart. We both know that eventually, the body fails.

You couldn't touch him, you couldn't even lay a finger on him, I say, the words starting to slur together.

His fingers stroke my head and catch on the blood crusted in my hair, and I want to scream, I want to fucking SCREAM.

Don't speak, he murmurs. You're so tired. So tired. It's okay. It'll all be okay. Rest now, Izumi.

I shudder. He's more than that, I say. He's so much more—

Something wet bubbles up in my mouth. I can't continue.

I'll pray for you when you die, he whispers, leaning down, and I feel the wound in my stomach less than the warmth of his breath on my cheek.

* * *

I asked Itachi once if he believed in heaven and hell.

He said that heaven and hell are merely human constructs, crafted and supported by our fears and anxieties as well as our hopes and desires. That humanity has childish notions of behavior and a longing to be guided by something. People want there to be a reason for things to happen, for there to be a plan. But there is no grand plan, no true meaning. There is no order to our days, no symmetry…

Nihilism, huh. No true meaning? You must think you're so cool, saying that, I teased him. Uchiha Itachi doesn't care about anything or anyone, huh?

He punched me in the shoulder but it didn't hurt. I laughed harder. He picked a late summer dandelion and blew it at me, and the puffy white seeds tickled my face.

The fact that something is a human construct doesn't make it any less important, he said, after I'd stopped sneezing. Perception is all about human constructs, about the lies we tell ourselves. We cannot prove the world exists outside of our heads. If someone believes in a concept of justice, then that is true in their perception, and therefore the reality they see. And where would we be without justice? Without mercy?

* * *

There's a weight half slumped over me, and I flinch awake.

You're fine, I hear Monkey whisper, more to himself than me. He's gone now.

I can feel him pouring his chakra into healing me.

Stop, I croak. Please, stop. Let me… Let me—

No, he says.

He keeps going. He's focusing on the wound itself as much as possible, now. He doesn't even deaden the nerves, and the healing hurts. He's using all the chakra he has. And at this rate—

Why? I say.

He slumps, and sweat beads on his brow, and his hands shake.

I have a son, he says quietly. I have a son.

The green glow at his hands flickers off.

I don't understand, I say, desperate. You told me that but I still don't understand. Why did you do it?

Because, he says. Because…

He crumples the rest of the way to the ground beside me.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears, does it make a sound?

Because what? Because you have a son and you look at me like I'm a child too—

Because I have a son. I have the Will of Fire. I have faith in Konoha, and I have faith in you.

He turns and looks at me, and I can feel the light of his chakra dying. His laughing mask and its bared teeth don't move. The eyeports stay dark, taking nothing, giving nothing.

Don't worry, he says. You'll understand one day.

* * *

I asked Itachi once if he wanted to get away.

Not just from school, but this, I explained. All this. Wouldn't it be so nice to leave forever?

What do you mean? he responded.

He didn't look at me.

Nothing, I said.

* * *

My eyes really fucking hurt.

* * *

 **Friday, February 9**

* * *

I put my mask back on and sit in a silent vigil by Crane's side. I don't know how long it's been, but my legs have gone numb.

Report, Crane rasps as his eyes flicker open.

Monkey is dead, I say. My voice cracks. Rabbit is too. The assailant left.

The boy, Crane says. He was looking for you.

Bile rises up in my throat.

Izumi, what happened? he asks me.

I close my eyes. The warm wind blows, and it smells like rain. I think of Hidan's breath on my cheek.

Izumi, he repeats.

I never wanted this, I say, and I feel something hot and wet run down my face. I never wanted any of this.

Crane turns away.

We're going back to Konoha, he says, and he gets to his feet. We can't finish this mission by ourselves. But first, we have to dispose of the remains.

Oh fuck, I say.

* * *

It's standard ANBU procedure to incinerate the bodies of dead operatives. There's even a jutsu made for it. The rough translation for it is Fire Style: Ashes to Ashes. Funny, isn't it? My father died in a fire. It was a pleasure to burn.

I read that in a book in the time before. The book itself was pretty good but no matter what I'll never forget that first line. It was a hell of an opener. It was a pleasure to burn. I just liked the sound of it.

My first memory as Uchiha Izumi was fire.

There were shouts and cries around me. Like the sounds of the souls of the damned. A man held me and cried like his world was ending but I didn't know him or his voice. I thought to myself then, without surprise: this is hell.

My father always said I was unnatural, that I shouldn't be alive. I was told later that I'd gotten crushed by falling rubble. It was a miracle that I'd survived – ha.

Some miracle.

* * *

We get home as the sun sets. Thanks to Monkey, I'm all healed up, so Crane drops me off at Teyaki and Uruchi's. They aren't home.

I go to the window. Crane is just leaving the senbei shop. He pauses. Maybe he can feel me watching him, maybe he can't. He removes his mask. I turn on my Sharingan. For the first time, I see his face. He's young. About 18 or so – about the age I was when I died.

I lay down.

I'm home. I'm home, and I sleep. I'm home, and I sleep, and I don't wake up for a very long time.

* * *

 **Sunday, February 11**

* * *

My eyes hurt. I have a headache. The clock says 11:52 pm. Ten days ago, I was here in Konoha. Konoha was home.

Konoha feels like an entirely different world now. Like when you wake up from a distant dream, but it was a nice dream, and now you're trapped again in this terrible reality…

But I think the only thing that's different is me.

Or maybe this feeling I have was here all along, rotting me from inside.

I don't know. I don't know.

* * *

I remember when Itachi smiled at me, moments precious and rare as they were. He was always kind and heartbreakingly gentle to me, but I'll never forget that smile. I couldn't bear to look at it for more than an instant. It made me think to myself that maybe the hell that I saw, I lived, was just my imagination – that maybe I was good, was kind, was happy.

* * *

I remember Monkey's sacrifice. He wanted me to live, for some reason. He didn't want me to die. Throwing away the gift of life that he gave me would be selfish and a culmination of how worthless I am. Perhaps I'm just a worthless sort of person. My father always said I was unnatural, that I shouldn't be alive…

He was right.

* * *

Before I became Izumi, I saw a show called 1000 Ways to Die. It recreated unusual supposed deaths and debunked urban legends, including interviews with experts who described the science behind each death.

But there's much more than a thousand ways to die out there. Maybe a million. Billion.

This one is mine. And it's easy.

(No more games. No more fighting. No more joy. No more despair.)

It's so, so easy.

(Relax – this won't hurt.)

* * *

The stars are still out, so I close the curtains.

* * *

Breathe in. Oxygen goes to the lungs, lungs deliver oxygen to the blood, and the heart pumps it throughout the body. Rinse and repeat. Interrupt any one of these and the cycle stops. The heart stops. The breath stops. Everything stops.

Everything finally stops.

The kunai is poised at my wrist. I press down, and I break skin, and I stop when I've reached the inside of my elbow. Remember kids, it's down the road, not across the street. My hands are shaking from the pain, but I manage to get my other arm. It's a long, long mile.

The world quiets. I'm so cold, but there's a warmth blanketed around me in the velvet darkness. It smells like rain.

I realize, quite suddenly, that I forgot to say goodbye to Itachi.

I wish I said sorry, because once I promised him that I'd always be by his side. I wish I told him the truth, about my father, my old life, my death, and how I became Uchiha Izumi. I wish I told him… told him all the things I was too scared to before.

I wish he wouldn't blame himself, the way he probably will. I wish I didn't have to do this to him. I'm just a coward. I'm just tired of hurting and hating and being afraid.

I used to see Uchiha Izumi as another chance. To do right, to be better. But I'm not good enough. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wanted to be good enough. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

* * *

I was driving to work the day before I died and I saw a dead fox.

It laid on the ground so very still and small. I pulled over to the side of the road and got out of my car, and for a moment, I watched.

Burnt orange fur, streaked with a dying red. A sodden tail. Eyes wide open and glassy. The pavement glistened after a night of rain, and I picked the dandelions that grew where the asphalt met the grass and left them in a pile at its feet.

I mentioned the fox and that I died the day after and I don't know why. A fox died on the side of the road and I stopped to look at it and I still don't know why.

Is my death going to be so empty? So pitiful?

The first time I died, I became Uchiha Izumi after.

Maybe this time, it'll stick. Maybe this time I won't become burdened with more life. Maybe I'll get to rest.

I guess I'm not really making sense, but I hope…

I hope someone leaves dandelions for me.

* * *

Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.


End file.
